


Treehouse

by TriCypher



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Dissociation, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28729206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriCypher/pseuds/TriCypher
Summary: Wanda takes John to her treehouse, where she shares her first kiss, and secrets of her past.
Relationships: John Allerdyce/Wanda Maximoff
Kudos: 1





	Treehouse

"So, Sheila, d'ya plan on tellin' me where we're goin' anytime soon?"

St. John Allerdyce was currently being dragged by the wrist through the woods behind the Brotherhood Boarding House by a smirking Wanda Maximoff.

"Hush" was the only response he got, and the older mutant swallowed nervously, but let himself be led through the trees nonetheless. Wanda glanced back at him and rolled her eyes at the apprehension written all over his face. "You'll see, Johnny, relax. I'm not going to murder you." "Well-"

The pyromaniac went to point out their first meeting, but was cut off with a warning glare by the witch in front of him. "I know where you're going with that, _St. John,_ and do you really wanna go there? Need I remind you, our first meeting started with you _kidnapping_ me?"

John had the audacity to grin cheekily at her, and if it had been anyone else, Wanda would have hexed them into the nearest tree. But John wasn't just anyone, and that's why she was taking him where she was.

"I saved you though!" "Yeah, from a situation _you_ put me in!" Wanda laughed. "How many times must I apologize for that, love?" John asked sweetly. Wanda zapped him lightly in the arm and he cackled. "Shut up, firebug. We're here."

John stopped his teasing to look up at the tree Wanda had stopped at. In it, there was a treehouse built into the trunk and nestled into the branches. There was a ladder leading up to the small platform before the entrance, propped against the sturdy tree trunk. A sign that read "Do Not Enter" was nailed haphazardly onto the doorway.

"A treehouse?" He asked, glancing at the girl in front of him. "My treehouse. I've never brought anyone here, and no one knows about it. Not even Pietro."

Again, as he so often did around the female Maximoff, John's heart was warmed as though he'd set fire to his insides. "No one?" He asked quietly. "No one," Wanda affirmed, beginning up the ladder. John watched her dumbly. From atop the platform, she stared down at him. "Well? Are you coming?" The Aussie snapped out of his reverie and ascended the ladder, following Wanda into the treehouse.

The inside was decorated, a rug on the floor, a beanbag chair, lots of blankets and pillows. She even had a fully stocked bookcase in one corner. Pictures and posters covered the walls, and a small speaker sat atop a log in another corner. Wanda sat cross-legged in the middle of the hut, on the fuzzy carpet, staring expectantly up at her company until he joined her on the floor.

"Spend a lotta time here?"

Wanda shrugged, noting how close they sat. John was sitting directly in front of her, mirroring her position, and close enough that their knees nearly touched. He leaned forward, into her space, and Wanda found herself leaning in towards him as well.

"Yeah," she said, swallowing nervously at the proximity. Still, her eyes did not leave John's bright blue ones, that were staring at her rather intently. "It's so busy at the house, you know? And after ten years of isolation, you get used to alone time." Here, she chuckled bitterly, and John's smile turned a little sad.

"So, when things get loud and stressful, or when I just want to be able to breath, I come here. The boys don't know about it. I tell them I'm just going for a walk. But I come here, I talk to myself, I listen to music, just... do whatever I want, safe and away from other eyes."

John tentatively placed a large hand on top of her knee. "Well, I'm really honored that ya brought me here," he said quietly. There was a rare sincerity in his voice, and Wanda unconsciously leaned closer to his face. A beat of silence, before John brought his other hand up to cup her face. He was warm, he was always so warm, and Wanda leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, she blinked in surprise. John's face was only inches away, eyes no longer trained on hers, but looking lower now.

"Wanda?" He murmured. "Yeah?" It was more a breath than actual an actual word.

"Can I kiss ya?" "Yeah..."

She closed her eyes again and waited. John's lips gently pressed to hers, and he was so, so warm. Wanda reached up, holding the wrist of the hand cupping her face, her other hand finding the one he'd laid on her knee.

She'd never kissed anyone before, not really. Through her ten years in an asylum, men that were much older than she had kissed her, and it was always a preamble to something much, much worse. The kisses, if they could even be called such, hurt as well. Bruising, biting, all teeth, too much tongue. No love was behind them. So, quite frankly, she had no interest in ever putting her lips near a mans of her own will after getting out of that hellhole.

Not until John.

It was so different that the horrors she'd experienced with the horrible, cruel men of the asylum over the years. There was no dramatic power dynamic.

She had as much control as he did. He'd even asked her before he kissed her.

No one had ever cared what she wanted when it came to her body.

He was warm, there were no teeth, there was no tongue. He was gentle, his thumb stroking her cheek as he moved his lips carefully against hers. And, as calm as the kiss was, there was so much raw emotion behind it, it was nearly overwhelming.

Wanda realized suddenly that she wasn't moving. According to all the movies she'd watched, the books she had read, she was supposed to kiss back, wasn't she? But she had no idea how to go about that.

In the asylum, she was limp as the men did what they wanted to her, turning off her mind and becoming as numb as she could. What if John got upset? She should be doing something. What if he wasn't enjoying this as much as she was.

With this thought, she abruptly pulled back, scooting away quickly. She huddled against the wall, half expecting some sort of retaliation to her resistance. When the abuse had first started with men in the asylum, she'd resisted. She quickly learned not to do that without access to her powers.

But John didn't even approach her. "Wanda!" He sounded panicked, and Wanda looked at him over her legs that she was currently hugging to her chest. "Wanda, I'm so sorry, did I go too far? You said okay, but, but, I probably went too long, I'm sorry, I didn't;t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable-" John rambled on nervously, and Wanda watched him with owlish eyes. "...What?" She finally asked, and John quieted.

"Did I scare you?" He asked. Wanda shook her head vigorously. "No, I was really enjoying it, but... but aren't I supposed to kiss back?" John blinked at her. "Isn't it only enjoyable if we're both moving our lips?" She tried to make the question clearer. "I, I don't know how to kiss back. And I didn't want to make it unenjoyable," she explained quietly.

John crawled over to her, taking up a cross-legged position in front of her fetal one. "Wanda, I still enjoyed it. More than anything," he admitted sheepishly. "Ya don't have ta kiss back if ya aren't ready. It doesn't make kissin' ya any less enjoyable." "Are you sure?" Wanda asked meekly.

John nodded fervently.

"Of course, love. Ya take your time, and figure out what works for ya. I don't mind being your guinea pig while you figure it out," he joked, a grin breaking out across his face. Wanda couldn't help but smile. "So you really don't mind my bad kissing while I try to figure it out?"

"Not in the slightest, love." He was moving closer to her face again, still smiling.

Pressing his forehead to hers, he whispered. "Can I?" Wanda nodded her consent and his warm lips were on hers again, moving just as slow as last time. With a bit of confidence now, Wanda tried moving her lips in sync with his. She struggled at first, the feeling unnatural, but slowly she got the hang of it, and their lips moved together in harmony.

John's hands were around her waist as she pressed her lips slightly harder against his, now confident in her ability to kiss back. Finally she pulled back, slowly and calmly, opening her eyes to meet John's. He was smiling and his lips were redder than usual. "You're a fast leaner, Sheila," he laughed quietly. Wanda grinned.

Eager for more, (her lips felt strangely cold now, without John's against them), she climbed into his lap and reconnected their lips herself. She could feel John's smile. His hands slid to her back, moving up and down gently. After silently debating herself in her head, Wanda let her tongue slip past her lips to press against John's, hoping he'd get the message, and hoping she wouldn't regret it.

He did get the message, and she didn't regret it.

It took her another moment to readjust to moving her lips smoothly against his with their mouths now open, but she fell into the new rhythm quickly enough. And she didn't at all regret it. She had decided, in her time at the asylum, that aside from male genitals, the tongue was her least favorite part of the human anatomy, after having too many of the slimy appendages shoved down her throat against her will.

But John was not rough, and he was not slimy, his tongue gently rubbing up against hers, but not invading her mouth to the point of discomfort. After adjusting to yet another new sensation with this, Wanda moved her tongue against his in turn, and suddenly understood her books when they described "lovers' tongue dancing." It was like a dance, when done correctly, and John knew what he was doing.

It took a while for the heat to build, as Wanda was learning along the way, but after a solid five minutes, the simmer had come to a boil. The kiss was hotter, rougher, and Wanda normally would have shied away from this, but it was passionate. The emotion behind it was addicting, and John was so warm. He tasted good too, like smoke, though he didn't smoke cigarettes.

Wanda supposed, he always smelled of something fire-related. It only made sense he tasted of it too.

His hands were trailing up and down her sides, but never did he try to grab her inappropriately. Her arms were wound tightly around her shoulders, but she eventually gave into temptation and raised one hand to rake her fingers through his bright orange hair. John moaned into her mouth, and it was a beautiful sound that Wanda wanted to hear again.

Experimentally, she pulled at the soft locks gently, light enough to not cause pain, but hard enough to cause pressure. Sure enough, John groaned again. Wanda was going to try and see what other noises he would make based on her actions, when suddenly she felt something hard press against her inner thigh.

She shot across the room so fast, she toppled the pyromaniac over.

He lay on the floor, head tilted back to look at her with wide eyes. He was breathing heavily, as was she, and his lips were red and swollen, gleaming with saliva. His face was flushed, and Wanda was sure she looked the same way. But now she stood in the corner like a trapped animal, hands up and glowing with her power, ready to strike.

"Fuck, Wanda, I'm sorry, I can't help it," John said sheepishly. "I'm so sorry, I tried not to let it get to me."

Wanda was breathing hard, and not from their make-out session. She wanted desperately to remember that John was not like those men that had hurt her, and he indeed could not control his arousal, especially in the position he'd been in. He'd only been aroused, he hadn't tried to go further with her. These thoughts were loud, but drowned by the memories of her past trauma. She fought not to have an episode, but quickly found herself disassociating as her breathing became ragged.

John leapt to his feet as Wanda's breathing took on a strange pattern, her eyes glazing over. He ran to her, taking her by her shoulders gently.

There were tears streaking down her face.

"Wanda, love, what's wrong? Are ya hurt? Please, talk to me!" He was becoming panicked as she remained unresponsive, breathing much to quickly. It was like she was having a panic attack, but somehow more severe. Finally though, with a surge of relief, he watched her eyes slowly come to focus on his face. "John?" She slightly slurred the word.

"Wanda, what the hell happened, are ya alright!?" John's accent was thicker than usual, as it usually got when he was extremely upset. "I'm sorry," Wanda sobbed. "It wasn't your fault, I just- it triggered a dissociative episode." "What did?" John asked. Wanda avoided his eyes as she gestured at his now soft crotch.

"It wasn't your fault!" She cried quickly, as John's face took on a look of horror. "Johnny, you didn't do anything, please, I'm sorry!" John carefully pulled her into his arms and she cried against his chest. "Don't ya dare apologize for that, Shiela. It was my fault-"

"No," Wanda said angrily, shoving against his chest, but not pushing him away. "Stop. You were, you were perfect. My trauma isn't your fault, you were so careful."

"Wanda?" John asked quietly. "What happened to you?"

Wanda heaved a shuddering sigh. "The asylum wasn't... it didn't have much surveillance. The staff was able to do whatever they wanted to the patients. The... the male staff especially, took advantage of that." John's grip on her tightened, and she felt his chest rise with a deep intake of air. "So, you were..." John's words were choked. "They..." Sensing his struggle to voice the words, Wanda quietly answered "Yes."

She chanced a glance up at his face. He was pale, and his jaw locked, indicating withheld rage.

"They're dead now," Wanda said flatly.

John's hold didn't loosen, but his shoulders sagged slightly. "When you escaped?" "When I escaped." "That's my girl." Wanda's heart fluttered at those words and she slumped into his chest.

"If ya hadn't killed them, I'd be hunting 'em down right now." Wanda smiled. Neither knew what to say from here, so they simply stood in silence, holding one another in the middle of the treehouse. "If ya ever need to talk to me about things, Wanda, I'm all ears." The Aussie pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Wanda thought for a minute. "Well. I did bring you here. Maybe it's time I lay everything out on the table." John leaned back just enough to gaze down at her. "Love, if ya aren't ready, I don't want ya ta feel like ya have to-" "No, St. John, I want to." He searched her eyes for a moment, and finding no uncertainty, offered her his hand.

They sat, side by side against the wall, and Wanda disclosed her life to John, details not even her twin knew of. She trusted John, and wanted that kiss to lead to more. To do that, she needed John to know of all her baggage.

Wanda Maximoff spilled her trauma to the man beside her in her treehouse, and not once did she fear rejection. John was different. John was special, and Wanda was fully prepared to give all of herself to this eccentric mutant obsessed with fire. Without even asking, she knew he felt the same way.

So they talked into the early hours of the evening, only leaving once the sun had fully set.

Wanda led them out of the forest, this time holding John's hand instead of his wrist. "So, are we coming back tomorrow?" John asked. "If you want," Wanda answered. "I do, Shiela. Ya've laid ya self out to me. It's my turn ta lay myself out for ya."

Wanda stopped to look up at him. "What do you want from this, Johnny?" It wasn't accusatory, merely looking for confirmation to what they both felt. "I want to be with ya, Wanda. I want to give ya all of myself. I want to become bonded in a way that only lovers can." Wanda felt her heart in her throat.

"I want that too," she whispered. He beamed, squeezing her hand and moving forward.

No more words needed to be spoken that day. They'd be back to the treehouse tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there may be a part two to this, which would be smut, and it’s own work. In this story, John and Wanda have been friends for a while, since Magneto has disappeared and John moved in with The Brotherhood.


End file.
